


The Devils Euphorian

by ProfessorBanks



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/F, Smut, devil!Jon, human!Dany, jon and milsandre are siblings, let’s get spooky 😌, so what i made the devil sappy for a human that show on fox exists, so what i made the word euphorian up call me an innovator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorBanks/pseuds/ProfessorBanks
Summary: Daenerys and her friends try to call a demon from hell, but instead Jon answers the call because he was bored. From then on, he can’t get her out of his mind.





	The Devils Euphorian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heiresstothequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heiresstothequeen/gifts).

“Let’s play a game”, Daenerys brings the box to the table that’s located in the center of the room. They all ignore her, so she says again, “Guys! Let’s play a game. I’m so bored and I’m tired of staring at my phone screen.” 

Daenerys and her three friends were in Dragonstone; a place her father has rented as a present for her 23rd birthday. He had sent the gift via his assistant, which annoyed Daenerys, but in depth Daenerys was just happy he even remembered. It was a humongous castle, quite old and held a sense of eerie. The first thoughts she had when she saw it was how it was how creepy it looked and what the fuck made her father think she’d want to stay somewhere so glumy. She decided then that they wouldn’t stay long, that she’d max her father’s credit card out paying for all her friends a trip to Astophor and buy a villa for the week. 

Daenerys decided to bring her two closest friends, Missandei and Greyworm. They were foreign exchange students that she met her first semester in attendance at Aegon University. Daario, he ex, invited his own self. They met in high school. His family moved from Yunkai to Kings Landing when she was 18 and a senior. He was her second boyfriend, Drogo being the first. After they broke up, they stayed friends. He still wants to be with her, but Daenerys won’t go back down that road again. She now realizes it was a complete mistake and that they’re opposites and have nothing in common but the great sex they gave together. Even that wasn’t enough to hold the relationship from falling to pieces though. 

The only one that looks up is Missandei, her face coming from the crook of Greyworm’s neck. She’s laying atop him now, her body sprawled along his. She’s half asleep, and Daenerys can tell, but she’s so bored that she can’t bring herself to care. “Dany, it’s 10 something at night and we were on a plane for 5, all I want to do is lay down on my boyfriend”, Missandei groans into Greyworm’s neck. 

Daenerys stomps her feet, “Missy, come on! Grey! Daario! Get the fuck up, we’re only here for one week and do you guys really want to spend it lounging around? We could’ve done that in Kings Landing.” 

Daario downs the rest of his beer, swishing it around his mouth before swallowing, he gets up and says, “Fine, princess. You always do get your way”, he leans down to try and kiss her, lips puckered. 

Daenerys shoves his face away, her hand covering his mouth. “Sometimes I genuinely sit and wonder what virus had infected my brain for me to ever decide to take my panties off and let you stick your little thing inside of me” 

Daario chuckles, his eyes looking down at his shaft suggestively, he wiggles his eyebrows. “You wanna go up in your room and let me show you why?” 

“I’d rather walk on nails than to ever fuck you again”, she retorts, scoffing. She takes the top of the box and begins unfolding the board. “Missy, Grey! Get up!” 

“Dany, ” Grey moans as he gets up to stand. Missy right behind him. “You’re so annoying.”

Daenerys giggles, not at all offended because she knows he’s completely right. “You love my annoying ass, though.” 

He grabs her face, making a mocking loving face at her, “how could I not? Look at how ugly you are!” 

They all laugh. Daenerys’ heart at that moment is filled with heart bursting love. All from one little display of affection. Daenerys’ Father loves her, sure, just like every father loves their precious daughters, but what he gives financially he’s unable to give emotionally. He tries to be there for her, which in actuality is just him throwing expensive gifts at her every time she’s come to him crying or every time he’s missed a recital or soccer game. When Daenerys’ mother, Rhaella, died it left a gaping hole in her father’s heart. When she was alive, Daenerys remembers her father always smiling, giving her and her mother hugs and kisses and actually spending time with them both. But now, there are no kisses. There are no hugs. And lastly, but not least, there is no time spent. Instead of falling into a deep pit of wallowing grief when they lost her mother, he fell into a deep, wallowing pit of determination. Determination to never let himself fall down. Never let the business fall. Never let her fall. Daenerys thinks that he thinks that if he does fall, he’ll never be able to get back up. 

And when he looks at her, it’s like he doesn’t see her. He sees her mother. He gets this look where his mind seems to take him to another place, another time. And Daenerys can’t help but to feel as if he resents her a little. That he hates the fact that she’s here and her mother’s not. Daenerys in no way could have caused Rhaella to mysteriously get cancer, but that still doesn’t stop her from believing that her father hates that the cancer didn’t take her instead. 

“What game are we playing”, Missandei chirped as she came to sit at Dany’s side. 

Daenerys picks up the top to the board game,”Umm, it says ‘Ouija board’. I have no clue what game that is, though.”

Daario has another beer in his hand now. Daenerys has no clue when he even left the room to go get it. “Isn’t that the game where you can contact the demons of the underworld”, he sits down by Greyworm. 

“We’re about to see”, Daenerys smirked. 

**JON~**

Her eyes.

That’s the first thing Jon became unnaturally infatuated with about her. As she sat beside her friend who was clutching on to her arm with a petrified look in her round brown eyes, while she just sat, eyes wide, waiting for something out of the ordinary to happen, that was the first thing he noticed. Her eyes. They are violently stricken with a light violet with spats of a darker violet that centers to a hard black. In all of his thousands upon thousands of decades of living, he’s never seen someone with her eyes. And although he’s seen many purple eyed Targaryen men and women, he’s never seen them so expressive and quite like hers. 

He knew that Aerys Targaryen had a daughter, but he’s never thought to think twice about her. He knew Aerys had a daughter just like he knew of every man to father a daughter in this world. So, just like all the other daughters he never gave a second thought to until they were on their death bed, and the decision was to be made if they were coming to hell or heaven, he never gave one to her, also. That is, until that fateful night in her father’s Dragonstone castle. Until that night he was so foolishly summoned by her and her friends. 

He had just finished finished his supper when he got the call. And just like many others, he was gonna ignore it, but just so happened, that night, he was unbelievably bored. Ygritte was gone, and he didn’t know her whereabouts, even though he knows that with a snap of a finger she would have come to him. Her presence could have been easily persuaded if he deemed wanted. He didn’t deem it though, because in honesty, she was boring to him now, too. So, when he got this particular call, he answered. 

When he teleported there, she was in between a light caramel skinned girl with long, curly black hair that when into spirals till the very end and a white, common looking boy. There was a boy there, sharing the same complexion of the girl with the black, curly hair. He was sitting beside the white boy. Her head was down, staring at the board as she told them disappointedly, “it didn’t work, I think.” 

The white boy with the brunette hair was the first to speak. “I’m sorta glad it fucking didn’t. What would we have done if a red, monster with horns came out of nowhere?” 

Jon took great offense to the commonly misconception of his appearance. All around the world, talks were told about how the devil took form. He had horns coming out of his head, his skin was as red as sipping blood and his teeth were as sharp as knives and as yellow as a yellow crayon. He had black claws coming out of his hands instead of fingernails and even going as far to say he had a tail. A fucking tail. Pictures and books were drawn of him using these descriptions. And through all these years, he’s had to go about his life with this stereotype on his back. Had the originators of this ficade not thought of the fact that despite how it turned out, Lucifer was once an angel? And with purity God gave his angels beauty. That beauty stayed with him even as he was cast down with the might of God. He sometimes supposes that this is his punishment for all the evil he’s done. After all, who could deliver him his due if not God himself? 

Jon doesn’t act just yet on his wounded heart, he decides to let the conversation unfold, life them into a sense of safety that only he knows is false. 

“Not gonna lie, Daenerys, I kind of agree with Daario”, the brown skinned girl states with a nervous chuckle. 

The three of them laugh, except for who Jon assumes is Daenerys. No, she’s not laughing at all. Her head is still down, her silver hair falling in waves cloaking the sides of her face, but her body is still very much visible. She has on a silk, baby blue gown that stops mid thigh. Her shoulders are bare, and the gown is so thin that Jon can see her breasts protruding against the fabric. Her nipples are hardened, Jon assumes it’s because of how cold it is in here. Her skin is white and milky to the eyesight, her thighs that’s folded under her meaty. In oddity, Jon finds himself comparing them to the many paramours he has in the underworld. 

The white guy, who Jon now knows name is Daario, moves to stand. “Fuck this, I say we go to a bar and get shit faced. I’d rather see the bottom of a beer bottle tonight than the devil.” 

At that, Daenerys lifts her head, and the breath leaves Jon’s body for a second. And now, oh now he can see her eyes so clearly and that’s the only thing he’s focused on. He’s forgotten Daario’s slight. He’s forgotten toying with them, making them so frightened to the point where they run out of the house with tears streaming down their faces as they scream and scream for help. He’s forgotten it all. Now, all he wishes to do is see her eyes up close. 

She twists her head far enough around to face Daario. “That’s all you want to do lately. Get shit faced. Quite boring if you ask me.” 

He looks taken aback by her comment for a moment before gathering his wits and saying, “Well, I guess it’s a good damn thing no one asked you then, huh Daenerys?” 

She looks away from Daario, and instead of looking back down, her eyes look right at _ him _. She looks right at him as if she can see him, but he knows she can’t because he does not wish for her to. For any of them to. Therefore, they will not. Disappointment and sadness entwines in her eyes and he feels that he actually cares. His confusion at this shows on his face just as much as its showing in his mind. He has not cared about what feelings or hurt coarse through a being of his own kind and making, let alone a mere human. But, for some reason, he can tell she isn’t just mere at all, and the sadness in her eyes makes his anger mold into a giant that demands revenge. He decides impulsively he wants the bloody heart of the one who’s causing her this pain in the palm of his hand as he squeezes the life out of it.

He moves a hand towards where Daario has almost reached the door, and with his mind, he yanks Daario hard enough for him to hit the other side of the wall, knocking all the pictures off of it. With his thoughts alone, he turns the lights off. Loud screaming and panic takes whole of the brown skin girl and the brown skin boy. 

“What the fuck was that, guys”, the brown skin boy speaks for the first time and Jon can hear the way his lips quiver as the words leave his mouth. 

Even in the dark, Jon can still see. His eyes now quickly adjusted to the change of light. He can see the way the girl is clutching on to Daenerys, sheer terror etched into every crevice of her face. He can see the way the boy chest is heaving with fright. He can even see and hear Daario behind him unconsciously breathing. But, he isn’t really focused on any of that. He’s more so focused on the small girl who doesn’t really seem that scared at all. More so focused on the girl who doesn’t seem that scared even though she knows there’s a strong possibility she’s conjured the devil himself. She seems...enthralled?

He begins to walk to her, and with each step he takes, the ground trembles. It trembles so much till the floors are rumbling from the repeating thump of the funirture and till the paintings and glasses are falling off the wall, off the table. The rumbling reverberates, bouncing from the wall, crawling it’s way up his black, dress shoes and into his legs then spine. She’s standing now. Her friends still glued to the floor, screaming. Screams are filling the air, but he’s tuning it out, tuning it out so much to the point where he can hear only hear _ her. _Only hear every haggard breath she’s taking. Only hear the way her heartbeat speed up uncontrollably. Until he can only hear her pulse jump in her throat. Until he can only hear every swallow she takes. It’s a serene silence now. Save for her breathing, nothing else is heard. He finds that he doesn’t mind it at all, that he likes hearing it. 

He’s but a breath away from her now. He wishes to see her eyes, but she’s closed them and he can’t help but to feel a sense of childish irritation because he’s used to getting what he wants. And he wants to see her eyes. His fists are clenching and unclenching at his side. He examines her face. Her eyebrows are a thick brown, same as her eyelashes. Jon wonders why they are not the same color as her hair. Her lips are so plump and perfectly shaped. He moves a little closer, and there he feels it. Her breath on his lips. It’s like a cool, mint breeze on a summer day. It’s like life being breathed back into someone. It’s like...he doesn’t have the words to explain, but he knows it’s something he’s never felt before. He doesn’t have the words to name it. It’s scaring him. And with that is the most ironic thing to ever be: the devil, scared of something. 

It knocks him back, away from her. He can no longer stand to be anywhere near her, he can’t fathom it for a second longer. But, it’s like his body doesn’t want to move. It’s like his mind is telling him to leave, to go, to never set eyes on her again, but his body is telling him to stay, to stay with her, to stay long enough so he can see her eyes up close. Like he so desperately wants to. He listens to the latter. He forces himself to turn away from her, to transport himself back to hell. Where he belongs. In hell. Because that is what he deserves. Hell. 

——

“The demons Marcel, Deriok, Theon, and Athel all require your council today. You have thirty souls to collect and four more contracts to make. King Jon? Are you even listening to me?” 

Jon rolls his eyes at Melisandre for what could easily be determined as the 100th time that day. He dramatically slides out of his throne and goes to the bar to make himself a drink. The throne is composed of a thousand metal swords, each being from an angel he’s defeated and claimed their swords as a victory. After sitting in it all day, it starts to hurt your ass though, which is irritating Jon beyond solace.

Lately, everything has been irritating Jon. From the way it reeks of led in hell, to the way the air always is so dampened, to the way Ygritte and his other paramours fuck him, and to the way that fucking leak in the ceiling keeps dripping in the far right corner of the room. A constant tatter in his ear each second. He drains the glass of vodka, wincing as the burn settles in the pit of his throat. He pours himself another as Melisandre speaks once more. The sound of her voice almost as annoying as the dripping sound.

“Well, even if you aren’t listening, I’ll continue to speak. The hostility between the free folk demons and the northern demons continues to increase. Tormund Giantsbane being the leader of the free folk and Ramsey Bolton of the northernmen”, she informs him, her hands clasped in front of her, a derisive look plastering her face. 

He pours himself another glass and turns to face her. The vodka will have no real affect on him, because he is not human, but he enjoys the man made drink all the same. And that’s one thing he can give them, they know how to fucking live. “I thought you told me they worked out their indifferences.”

She purses her lips. “No, I told you that they were coming up with a peace treaty, which seemingly fell through as we both can see.” 

“How and why”, he questions, not really caring an ounce about how and why.

“I would assume that one of the northerners were the reason. Savages they are,” she replies in a monotone voice. 

“And who the fuck told either party that they could choose a leader? I’m their king, what do they need with a damn leader”, he roars. 

“There’s talk amongst the demons about rebellion. Talks of replacing King Jon who only sits about drinking and fucking, who no longer cares about defeating God. Who no longer cares about bringing hell to earth and heaven. There’s talk that there is someone who does. Someone who will finally give them what they were promised.”

Jon sits the glass on the counter and puts his hands in his into the pockets of his black suit. “And what do you think, sweet sister”, he asks with an even voice, though anger sears through every pore of his skin. 

She’s unfazed and unamused by his anger. “I don't care for gossip, it does not in any way shape my views. But, I feel there's a truth to it. I have felt it for some time.” 

“And what truth do you feel it holds”, his voice is a deep pit of aggression. 

“I think the whispers are true. You don’t care any longer about any of it. You’re bored, bored of the own devolution you started. I’ve been watching, watching long enough to see you find no happiness in anything or anyone. When you fuck you fuck because you’re bored. When you kill, you kill because you’re bored. You aren’t even looking for the artifacts necessary in the conquest to bring about the end. I’m beginning to think this was all for naught.” 

“What was all for naught, sweet sister? I will not say it for you, you’ll have to say it yourself.”

She looks to her to the ground, taking deep purposeful breaths before returning her blue eyes back to his stormy grey ones. “Us leaving home, leaving Father, our brothers and sisters. All the pain we’ve caused in this world. It was all for nothing if you don’t do what you promised.” When he does not speak, she continues, but her voice is so low, he’s sure that if he didn’t have such keen hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her at all. “I miss him. I miss them. I miss home. Don’t you?”

His last little control snaps and in the blink of an eye, he has her held by the neck with one arm, her body pressed harshly into the stone wall. “So, what now? Huh? You somehow find a way to contact father and and beg him to let you come home? Are you gonna leave me now, hm? Betray me for him like he betrayed me for them”, he asks menacingly. She fights against his hold as tears fall down her face. 

“I can’t leave you because I love you too much. Knowing that you are down here while I am there happy will tear me apart. Quite literally. I wish I didn’t love you the way I do, because if I didn’t I would have never left home. I would have never been through so much pain.” She looks down at him, eyes big and sad. She looks down at him like she’s finally accepted and admitted something to herself. “You are my Achilles hill, but I am not yours.” 

Jon thinks back to the first time he heard her voice. Melodic. When their father had first created them in his light. About how when that same father had cast him out of heaven because he was resentful towards humans, she was the only one of his brothers and sisters that stood up for him. The only one that decided if he left, she would also. She’s been by his side all these millenniums and has not left it no matter how many truly evil and vile things he’s done to her. When everyone has left or betrayed him when his vulgarity got just a bit to much for tolerance, she stayed. He finds himself wondering why she has stayed when he has caused so much pain for her. He also finds himself wondering how has he caused her so much suffering when he loves her. He truly loves her, she may be the only thing in this galaxy that has felt his love besides his father. He has so much hate to give so many things, enough of it to go around and around, but he can not say the same for his love. He gives it only to her, yet he has caused her so much pain. How? How has he done that to the only person he loves. He knows that she does not wish for the destruction of man kind, he knows she only left heaven because of him. Because of her love for him. What has he given her in return for that love and loyalty? Pain. Unspeakable acts of pain. 

He thinks that her punishment for betraying God is him. Her punishment is her love for him, which keeps her bound to the devil; for eternity. 

The devil thinks God a sick individual for binding someone to him forever. 

There used to be a light in her eyes, but Jon, he snuffed it out, and as he gazes in her eyes, he understands that it will never come back. That he is the reason for this. There’s something aching in his chest from this revelation. His mouth has gone hazardously dry, and he feels this overwhelming sense of...something. Something that makes him want to hug her, hold her tight and tell her that he loves her. That he appreciates her. Tell her that he’s sorry. 

_ I’ve never told her I was sorry. I never told her I was sorry for taking her away from father. Away from our brothers and sisters. I never told her I was sorry for killing her lovers. I never told her I was sorry for hitting her. I never told her I was sorry for always putting her last. I never told her I was sorry for her blood on my hands. I never told her I was sorry. _

Her skin is like molten to his hand now, he can no longer withstand the contact so he drops it from her neck and backs away from her. She’s heaving and huffing, folded over as she says her next words. Her long red hair mussed. “Everything must come to an end. Everything must change to adjust to its environment. When the time comes, I want you to remember that, brother of mine.”

He wants to say he apologizes, but his mouth won’t let him open it to let the words roll off his tongue. His pride capturing the word and holding it hostage. He wants to bury his head into her neck and hear her say that it’s okay, that she forgives him. In these years, she’s been his mother, his sister and his only confidant and he so desperately wants nothing more but to feel her love. Albeit, he feels he doesn’t deserve that. He won’t allow himself to get that from her. So, he leaves, haggardly marching away from her. He doesn’t know where he’s going, his thoughts addled, but he knows he can’t stay here a moment longer. He lets the voice in the back of his mind guide him. 

He ends up in apartment. It’s a very modern apartment, the floors are stained marble and instead of a wall, there’s a big window with a view that covers the entire city of Kings Landing. The kitchen and living room are in the same vicinity, and Jon concludes that it’s really just a humongous room. There’s stairs, stairs that twist into what seems to be the second floor. Jon feels compelled to venture up them. 

When he makes it to the top, there’s only one direction he can go. It looks to be a room. There’s no one on the bed, but he can hear someone moving around in the bathroom. He hears a sink running, and as he puts his hands back in his pockets, he hears the sink being cut off before he hears someone’s footsteps. 

It’s her. 

Jon unintentionally winces, like he’s frightened of the sight before his eyes. How comical it would be to his adversaries that the devil himself was scared of a petite woman that looks to weigh no more than 120 pounds soaking wet. Long tendrils of silver hair cascade down her back leaving small puddles of water behind her. Her face is rosy, her lips plumper than what he remembers them being from seeing two weeks ago. She’s covered in a silk robe, only slightly parted but he can see the skin of her collar bone and between her breasts. She’s still dripping with water, the thin fabric sticks to her skin, leaving very little to his imagination. He can see her hardened nipples, the way the silk is sticking to her stomach tantalizingly. As she whips past him, he catches her scent. She smells like vanilla and strawberry. His feels his dick beginning to stiffen so he shakes his leg to get it to a more comfortable position. 

The bed she sits on is a large four-poster bed, and she has to do a little jump to even get on it. Jon finds the action strangely adorable. 

What’s _ wrong _ with him? He’s never found anything a human has ever done adorable. 

She’s rubbing lotion on her right leg now, her left leg hanging of the bed a bit and Jon can see the white hairs on her pussy. He’s rock hard now. She pours more of the white substance onto her hand, pulling aside the robe on her thigh, then she rubs it all over her thigh in a circular motion. Jon can see her cunt fully now and his mouth waters. He thinks, _ I just want a taste, just a small taste. She’ll never even know I was here. _

He walks the little distance to her bed, he kneels, he kisses the sole of her left foot, and then he kisses his way up her calf. Her skin is so soft, she smells so good. He takes deep breaths of skin as he kisses his way up her calf to her full thigh. They’re so meaty and his dick goes unbearably harder as he squeezes one. A groan leaves his mouth. She’s stopped with the lotion now, and she’s looking quizzically around the room. He gently parts her leg gently, and he doesn’t give her a chance to rebuttal this because as soon as her leg is out of the way his mouth is on her pussy with an open mouthed kiss.

He licks up her slit once, and he hears her gasp, and he licks again and again until she’s soaking the bed from arousal. His hands are on her thighs holding her in place as she writhes from his tongue inside of her. He flicks his tongue back and forth. His nose is pressed right into her bundle of nerves and each time he licks, his face moves, causing friction. Giving her more pleasure. She tastes so good. Better than anyone he’s ever eaten from before. She panting, desperately trying to escape the hold of him, but he’s holding her in place by her thighs. He’s sucking and flicking his tongue like a crazed man, but he isn’t a crazed man. He’s a crazed devil. 

He’s so enthralled by the way she tastes that he doesn’t notice that he’s stopped making himself invisible to her, so when her foot comes to his shoulder and kicks him off of her, it’s totally unexpected. 

He lands on his ass, with a dumbfounded expression on his face, his hand coming up to wipe her juices from his mouth. There’s no use though because it’s all in his beard. She’s looking at him now, still panting. She’s covered herself back up with her robe, and Jon can’t help the whine that leaves his throat. 

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in my apartment”, she questions angrily and a bit scared. Her face is buried into the covers, she’s on her side, her hand covering her mound. She’s moving against it, barely, but still moving. 

He stands. He rubs his hand against his rock hard dick as he said:

“You’re the one that called me. You should know.”

She’s sitting up now, a hand protectively clutching her robe, hiding her naked body from his eyes. He could take what he wants, but he won’t because the idea of making her do anything she doesn’t want to do makes him feel incredibly bad. “I never called you”, she dismisses. Her hair is halfway dry now, frizzy. It’s falling all around her, cloaking her face.

“You did. Two weeks ago, on Dragonstone stone, at approximately 12:45 AM.” 

“Ok, I remember that, but I called the devil. Not”, she looks him up and down with uncertainty, “whatever you are.” 

He tsks. “Why do you all expect to me some bloody hideous abomination. God is my father, do you think he’d create me to be ‘ugly’?” 

Realization strikes her face. Her mouth forms an “o”. “Oh my Gods. The fucking devil was eating my pussy! What the fuck have I done?!” She hits her forehead with the hell of her hand. 

He finds himself laughing. But she isn’t laughing at all. In fact, he can hear the fear seizing her heart. “Are you gonna kill me now?”she asks, her voice is so small. 

He shakes his head. “No”, he answers with a sensirity he’s not given anyone besides his sister in so long. He knows it’s the truth. He won’t hurt her. “I’m not going to harm you.” 

“What are you going to do then?” 

His hand rubs his clothed dick, her eyes shooting to watch this action and then she meets his eyes once more. In one swift action, he crowding her space. His nose bumping into hers. He drags a finger down her neck, dragging it to her shoulder and gently pushing the silk fabric. “What i want”, he begins, forcing her to lie backwards, “Is to fuck you until you feel me even when i’m nowhere near you.”

He rubs his nose against the soft skin of her neck and takes a deep breath. “Why do you smell so fucking good”, he groans into her neck and he can feel the giggles leave her throat and escape into the air. It makes him smile. 

“Well”, her hand is at the nape of his neck, where small curls lie, her nails raking through the scalp there. “I think that may be because I just got of the shower.” 

He doesn’t bother replying to her, instead he sticks his tongue out of his mouth, licking his way to hers and he kisses her passionately. They’re breaths mingling. He casts spell to make his clothes disappear and in an instant, he’s completely naked. His hand goes under her robe, palming her breast, squeezing the plump flesh. Her breasts are just a tad too big to fit into his hands, but he finds that perfect because he hates flat chested women. Without warning, he grabs her by the ankle and flips her on her back. “Get on all fours”, his voice is husky. She does what he says, wiggling her ass toward him, “Well, what now?” 

He chuckles at her boldness, at her obvious challenge. “I’m gonna make you not be able to walk for a week”, he grabs her meaty ass, rubbing his stiff dick against her pussy from the back. He hears her gasp. He takes ahold of his shaft, then he plunges in. 

The first few pumps are like heaven, and he can’t help but to throw his head back and moan into the air. He goes slow for a while, but the paste is now just annoyingly not enough. Jon plants his knees firmly on the side of her calves, then he grabs her hips, slamming her back into him. He laughs at how wide her eyes go from him filling her up. He does it again and again until he’s fucking her with lighting speed. 

His thighs claps to her ass as he watched keenly as he slipped in and out of her, fingernails bruising her hips, holding her in place. “O-oh gods”, she croaked out, eyes clenched tightly, hands holding fistfuls of the white sheets. 

He ran his calloused hand over her skin to her hip, encouraging her to arch her back to give him a better angle. Jon let out a guttural groan to match her whimpers, both slowly pumping into one another adjusting to the new position. Her hair disheveled on her back like a canopy hanging over a bed from their exertions. The night sky beaming in through the balcony sending warm tingles on their already clammy and dewy bodies.

Acquiring a steady rhythm, he started pumping into her hard and fast, breasts bouncing up and down from the force. Her body felt like someone had set a fire right in the pit of her stomach. His thrusts became more frenzied and ferocious, leaving her breathless after each one.

Her last ounce of strength that she managed is vastly draining, Jon must sees this because he snakes his left hand under her tousled hair to grip at her neck, bringing her back upwards to his chest, his nails digging into the nape of her neck. He licks and suckles at her neck, before tipping her chin to his mouth for a hard, demanding kiss. Teeth clank against one another, their saliva mixing as one. She bites his lip, hard, left him gasping in her mouth. He growls in painful pleasure. Something feral unleashes inside of him. 

His right hand comes up to grope her breasts in impulsive frustration, pinching and pulling at the pink rosey nipple. He could feel the wet substances of her arousal on her ass cheeks, on his pubic hairs above his sex, as he pounds into her. He could hear sounds of their coupling filling the air, but barely because of the hot drumming in his ear. He’s drowning everything else out. His only focus on how beautiful the sight is of his dick disappearing inside of her and then reappearing. 

“I’m cumming, oh fuck I’m cumming”, she whimpers into his mouth. And just like she said, moments later her body begins shaking, her pussy clenching around his dick, squeezing it painfully good. Her screams fill the air. He slipped out of her and Daenerys’ head falls into the mattress, panting. Jon did let her have long to recuperate before he was grabbing her by the ankles, flipping her over to her back. His raven locks were also tousled wildly, curls spilling onto his face. Her eyes go wide when they finally open and look at him. “How are you still so hard?!” 

He laughs as he palms his dick, then applies pressure, moving his hand up and down. His dick is still wet from his seed and her juices. He's in between her legs, he can see his seed dripping out her pussy, white and creamy. A surge of possessiveness washes over him as he watches his seed drop onto the sheet and impulsively he uses his finger to coat it on and he pushes it back inside her. He dives down and kisses her eagerly, his tongue instantly snaking inside of her mouth. she lazily kisses him back, her eyes closed, dragging her left hand up his chiseled arm. He kisses his way to her, whispering, “Come on, love. I know you have one more in you.” He places the tip of his dick inside her folds, teasingly rubbing it against her nub and he smiles as he hears gasps leave mouth. 

Without warning, with a hard thrust of his hips, he’s inside her. She cries out in and Jon doesn’t know if it’s in pleasure or pain, but he goes with the latter when he feels her gyrating on his dick. He places open mouth kisses on her collarbone, moving down to her left breast, taking the nipple in his mouth, suckling on it, then he takes it on the tip of his teeth, pulling at it. He does it again to its twin. He starts to move his hips, slowly at first, then he stabs her with one thrust. Her mouth goes wide, but a sound doesn’t leave it. Just a gust of breath. Jon places his face inside the crevice of her neck, biting down on her skin there, then he licks it to soothe the angry red marks that appear. 

Their bodies are dewy and clammy from their exertions and his forehead and face stuck to her neck. Daenerys wraps her legs around his waist, his ring hand coming down to rest in the small of her back while his left delves into her silvery locks, pressing himself further into her neck. 

With each snap of his hips, Jon could feel his climax building. And as that came, Jon felt his grip in Daenerys’ hair get tighter, he knew that he would have to let her go soon because he felt it coming. He has not felt this type of climax come over him in so long. When ever he fucks Ygritte or anyone else, he cums, but he doesn’t cum so to where his eyes go completely black and as the cum squirts from his dick, a chillingly feral howl leaving his throat. He knows that he looks tenebrous, and he knows he’ll most likely scare her, but he can’t stop himself from plunging into her. He hears her moaning, his grip on her hair gets dangerously tight, and then he feels it happening he thinks, but it doesn’t and he growls into her neck in annoyance. 

“That hurts”, he thinks he hears her say, but he’s too focused on how many more thrusts will it take before he reaches his ultimate climax. With one more arduous slam of his hips, it really does take place. 

His eyes go pitch black, they look like glossy black glass. He throws his head back in the air, a guttural, high pitched howl leaves his mouth. The sound pierced the air and Jon can hear the birds flapping away through the open balcony. His howl penetrates the air for at least 90 seconds before he’s out of breath, he slumps over, his face immediately going back to the crook of Daenerys’ neck. He hears her heart rate speed irregularly high and he instantly feels bad. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you”, he rushes to tell her, kissing the side of her face, meaningfully. He keeps his eyes closed, afraid that if she sees she’ll get up and run. 

They stay like that for a while before she speaks. He’s thankful that she does, the silence becoming unbearable for him. “I wanna see your eyes. Please”, she adds. 

Reluctantly, he complies, peeling his eyelids from atop his now fully black orbs. “They’ll go back to normal in a while. This is my natural form and it comes out when I climax”, he tells her as she places an unsure hand under his eye to inspect it. 

“I don’t even know your name”, she says, still gazing in amazement at his eyes. 

“It’s Jon.” 

She smiles. it’s a small smile, but still a smile and Jon couldn’t help but smile back. “Who knew the devil has such a simple name”, she replies in jest. 

He stares into her eyes, those violet eyes, those plump lips and rosey cheeks and he couldn’t stop himself from saying:

“For you, I’ll be an angel.” 

  
  



End file.
